Logical Catharsis

We'll see if this post makes any sense... I'm feeling too tired to want to write anything tonight, but restless enough to attempt it, as well as tired of circling around the front of this issue and never pushing through to the conclusion...

Anyway, to set the scene: on Friday, between classes at Concordia, I was whining to a friend how I hate weekends when I have nothing to do. Quite logically, she concluded that I was foolish to be whining, given that it is fully within my power to correct this: if I want something to do on the weekend, it is as simple as phoning someone up and asking "hey! are you doing anything this afternoon? I'm bored!"

Now, for whatever reason, although I recognise the truth of this solution, there is something in me that revolts at the suggestion of it, and says in the bluntest emotions possible that there is no way on Earth I'm ever going to be comfortable with doing that. I would much rather do nothing all weekend and drown in my self-centred misery. I said as much to my friend, and she quite fairly criticised me severely for my unwillingness to change, and for being such a fool as to complain.

The whole situation has been on my mind on and off yesterday evening and today, which is an uncomfortable situation, although not exactly a bad one. The worst of it is that I can't really seem to come to a resolution, but instead keep going over and over the same thoughts and emotions and thus have this horrible sick-to-my-stomach feeling that you get if you watch the same movie four times back to back.

I've tried looking at this as a logical problem to be solved, but if it is just a problem of logic, it's a complicated one, and I'm too lazy to graph it all out into syllogisms. Anyway, the problem seems to be expressed best thusly: "while I seem to really like going out and doing stuff with people, the only reasonable way to do such things is one I seem to be unwilling to take". The "reasonable way", of course, being to invite people to go and do stuff...

The logical part of me wants to make a distinction about the situation and then leave me happy with that. It wants me to say that I don't really want to be out having to interact with people, to talk to them and be an integrated part of some group, but that I simply want to be around people. It presents, as evidence, the apparent joy I got this morning at the Marian Centre during the tea break, sitting there amidst everyone else, but talking to none, and the object of no one's attention, just sort of absorbing the swirl of humanity and relationships around me.

Now, the logical part has a point--I do enjoy people-watching. The obvious solution to my dilemma, then, would seem to be that the reason I don't want to go ask anybody to go and spend time with me is that I don't really want quality time with anyone, but that I want to be around people without any qualifications, and thus that I should just go hang out in West Edmonton Mall tomorrow afternoon, and let humanity swarm all around me.

Though it presents a compelling argument, I have to say this part of me is wrong. Although I am an avid people-watcher, and have indeed spent time in West Ed and such places doing nothing more than walking around, sitting, and watching, this is not at the heart of this matter. No, the issue here is as it seems: I want to engage people on a personal level, but I'm too reticent to seem able to do so.

Where lies the problem then? That it is a problem, I am quite willing to confess at the moment, despite numerous reservations when the same question has come up at different points in the past. I've tried, before, to justify this reticence, but I think my friend is right here in criticising me for complaining when it is fully within my power to do otherwise. After all, I claim to believe in free will--and all I have to do is exercise my free will and either go knock on a seminarian's door or dial the phone... but that sends adrenaline through my system like you wouldn't believe, and I begin trying to excuse myself out of it like crazy.

Let's take it as a given, then, that I'm in the wrong for being reticent, and tackle the related question of WHY I'm so reticent. It's not a problem with the Golden Rule Principle of "Do unto others...", since I would love to have someone call me up and ask if I wanted to do something. It is, probably, something rather more irrational.

I've already had a few ideas present themselves to me as to what it might be. Beginning with my beginning, there's nature and nurture. Whether it's genetic or conditioned doesn't really matter to the situation here, since either way, my parents have certainly affected me. Dad is probably worse than me for initiating any sort of social activity, though every indication is that he doesn't really care for it all that much (Dad's rather a homebody...). While Mom is more than willing to call up a friend for coffee, it's always from a small circle of close friends, not from acquaintances in general. By and large, my family background does not encourage going out there and inviting people to do things.

From that, I would note that I am a lot like my mom, but with the notable difference that while I might be just as willing as her to call up a good friend and go for coffee, unlike her I don't have (m)any friends close by to call up, or, indeed, have many such friends in general. It's a bit of a paradox, I suppose: I won't phone people to do stuff until they're good friends, but they won't become good friends until I've done stuff with them, which requires phoning...

It's not fair, however, to lay the blame for this situation at my parents' feet, though it may explain my disposition some. My own history has played its part, no doubt. Though never well-disposed to such things, I also had little opportunity before I was about 14, since we lived in the country, and when you're a kid who can't drive, the initiative to invite people over or to go in and do stuff really isn't in your own hands. Consequently, when we moved to town at age 14, not only was I not inclined to such things, I had pretty much no experience. Although never quite a social pariah, I was always acutely aware that I wasn't quite the most popular kid in the social circle either, quite aware of not being invited to some events and of having to miss others because of inability to come, or of being less than the life of the party when present... all of which leads to a certain amount of insecurity when deciding to plan something, and makes it that much more crushing when you plan something, and it doesn't work out. And, inevitably, it didn't. What can I say? It was junior high school... the most tender years of a psyche's life. I think it was just something as trivial as no one being able to go to a movie except the people who'd already been to it. Or I'm inventing some situation that never happened. Anyway, there's long precedent in my life for associating pain with attempting to start/host anything social. Also, for most of my teenage years, I didn't really care for too much in the way of social life, so what stuff other people invited me too was often enough to satisfy me.

So, knowing all that you might think I'd find it easier to get over this mental hang-up and just do something--right? Wrong. I may be a mature adult now, but the "PAIN!" klaxon still sounds when I start thinking about asking somebody to do something, and avoiding pain is generally something we tend to do.

To delve a little further into the "PAIN!" instinct, it can be also articulated with the idea that I am afraid to impinge too much on my friends. When I mentioned this to my friend yesterday, she laughed at me, and rightly so, and told me (if not in so many words, in impressions), that would they really be a friend if they disliked my presence that much? Either they would be able to do something, and then we would, or they'd not be able to, and then no hard feelings--right? Well, maybe looked at sensibly, but I have difficulty looking at it that way, because although I get along well with people, and can generally making amiable acquaintances easily, I really take a while to develop friendships, and I guess you could say I have a paranoid fear of losing a friendship by taking advantage of it too often. Or, to put it another way, though it may not be true I am so oblivious, I have a fear that I am completely unable to judge just how tolerated/liked I actually am by a friend, and thus I back off completely so as not to lose whatever I do have.

A very foolish and insecure way of looking at friendships, I fully realise, but it is a habit, and bad habits are the hardest to break. As someone who doesn't make close friends easily, and as someone cautious by nature, I don't want to jeopardise ANYTHING. I know this means I'm never going to actually build a close friendship if I keep to the same tack, but that doesn't make it much easier to change my ways, alas.

On top of these predispositions, I have the added problem of being a seminarian. Now, this isn't REALLY a problem--look at most of the others here to demonstrate how having friends is entirely possible for a seminarian--but it does give me quite a few more excuses to utilise in my attempts to defend myself from having to change my ways.

First of all, there is the schedule. It's not that it's so super-full that I never would have time to get out, it's just that it's well-sprinkled across the week. I have mornings off... but that's when I have (and I really do have) to read for my classes. I have evenings... sorta. Night Prayer kicks in three days a week, and I have a night class on a fourth and Community Activities with the seminary on Fridays. These are all good things which I generally enjoy doing, but they all effectively prevent me from going out and doing anything. Now, Night Prayer isn't until 9:30, but I tend to view social events a lot like friendships: I'd rather them rarer and richer than many and fleeting. Consequently, from the above, most of fun people-spent-with time is between classes at school, and after the community event on Fridays, which are fun times to be sure, but which certainly don't fill the gaping void of the weekend.

However, empty weekends being what sparked this whole conversation, it should be apparent that time isn't what I need in life, but a new mentality. Carrying the "being a seminarian" problems farther, there is definitely a philosophical problem for socialising that comes with being a priest-to-be. As such, I have a mentality that says I have SHOULDN'T be socialising too much, getting too close to friends. It says that while I should be everyone's friend, and get along with all, I shouldn't be obsessing over having close friends and worrying about social relationships, since, after all, once I'm ordained, I'm not going to have time to waste on hanging out with people. It also says that I am liable to be moved around Edmonton, around Alberta, even around the world, if they send me to Rome or something, and I'm only setting myself up for pain by making friendships I'll have to cut off at sometime.

Now, I am well aware, particularly if I start thinking sensibly as I'm trying to do right now, that this is a VERY dangerous way to be thinking. Quite apart from needing to be an island unto himself, a priest needs to have a balanced life with good friends, and he needs to be able to relax away from the parish--both with priestly friends and with other friends and family. And when I look at it in this balanced lighting, I only become more concerned, since I'm not doing myself any favours by not taking care of myself socially, that I'm setting up some foundations for my burning out and becoming a bitter, bitter man if this continues too far.

So here, at last, we more or less reach the end of the thoughts that, in some form or other, have swirled around my brain this past 36 hours or so. Some of it is much older, and has been recycled for years, but now is the first time that I've managed to synthesize it all together and make some sense of it logically. Before I move on to the logical conclusion, however, let me add an addendum that just occurred to me to add.

First, a note on seminarians. Now, most of the above issues apply to my relationships there. I have the same reticence problems with my brothers as I do with friends in general, but unlike with friends in general, I seem to be doing a bit better... either because we're thrown together more, or because I've made a more concerted effort of it, I don't know, but although there's still a lot of room for progress, I really don't have much to fault with myself there. The real issue here, insofar as there is any immediacy to it, is with other friends.

And now, the conclusion:

I need to change. For the second time this year, in casually defending a not-thought-through practice of mine, I have come to a conclusion that calls for change. Last time, it was trivial: in order to maintain my opinionated rhetoric, I had to start going to chapel at Concordia. This time, it seems to entail a great deal more: clearly, if I want to enjoy friendships on weekends, the onus is on me to DO something and not WHINE about it. This is hard, I am really feeling, since while my other issue about chapel meant I had to change my actions in order to maintain my opinions, here I have to change my opinions AND my actions in order to achieve the effect I want.

I don't even know where to start, but having--at enormous length--reached this conclusion has drained me for tonight. I'm also rather terrified at the prospect; facing your deepest, darkest fears is not particularly easy. I have no idea how I'm going to do this... if I can. I don't WANT to stay as I am, but change really, really hurts... it's like setting a broken leg: neither the broken leg or the setting feels at all pleasant, but only one is good for you.





Wow... all that took a LONG time to write... that was really cathartic, though.

Busy as a Beaver

I can't believe how busy life is right now... It's not that it's full of hard things, but it certainly FULL! Now, having one more course than a full course load will help you in that direction, but I don't think it's the extra schoolwork so much as it is everything else.

Part of the problem is that I don't seem to have free weekends anymore. Well... that's not perfectly true. Turns out that I fluked into getting this weekend off when I was expecting to spend it all in a parish, but even so, the fact is that my weekends are almost looking like they need to be gone into without the expectation of doing homework... which means that all my readings (and they are many) and all my papers (which will be several), need to be focussed into my mornings and evenings, which push in nice and tight on the afternoons I spend in school. Of course, school isn't the only thing in my life. January is always a nasty month for me with car re-licencing and driver-re-licencing. As a result of booking a test to upgrade and get my "mature" licence, I've had more stuff going on to drag me out of homework this past week, and it's impacted nastily on my being caught up on readings.

I probably shouldn't have bit off a key role in the Philosophy Club's public debate, but I allowed myself to be flattered into it--aided by my egoistic self-concept of myself as one of our better public speakers.

As I said... life's not hard... but it is full. I sleep really well at night.

An Amazing Gift

Well, my first part week of school is now done, and I'm not really sure what to think about this semester. I really didn't go in with a lot of eagerness, like last semester. I wasn't dreading it... the holidays were plenty long enough, and there were a couple days once the retreat was over and the other seminarians had all gone back to classes when it occurred to me that I really needed some sort of purpose to my daily life.

I've got it now, I guess... in the form of two English courses, three Philosophy courses, and a night course in Art History. It's an overload of courses (five is the normal limit), but this is the semester to do it, since these are all courses I can more than reasonably expect to do well in, and the Art History, which was added last, is known as an easy course (the complementary course which I took last year was).

There's not really much to say yet about school. I'm still getting used to the seismic shift in my class times which has seen all my classes gravitate towards the end of the afternoon. My earliest class is 12:05 pm (Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays) or 1:55 pm (Tuesdays and Thursdays). And, of course, any semester means changes in who you hang out with between classes, and where.

Tonight, though, my interest isn't really in school. Actually, it isn't really there at all. In part, my interest is on the "Musician's Spirituality" post I wrote a couple months ago. I didn't get a lot of comments, but the few I did were quite positive, and I shared it with my spiritual director, who was quite intrigued, and suggested I continue my train of thought and see what else comes up, so I'll probably delve down that mineshaft again soon. Tonight, though, I've a different topic in mind.

Last night, after a long evening of looking eagerly at the plans for the new seminary and enjoying some deep conversations on various topics, I got involved in a long discussion with the Rector and a couple of the other seminarians that went on for a very long time (well after midnight... though it probably wasn't much before that we started) on the topic of the Seal of the Confessional.

For those who don't know, the Seal of the Confessional is the term which refers to the utter secrecy surrounding the Sacrament of Penance (also known as Reconciliation or Confession), and can also be invoked outside the sacrament, such as in spiritual direction. Concerns about accidentally letting something slip as a priest has probably worried every serious seminarian ever, though real experiences suggest it isn't such a huge issue once you're ordained, and breaches are extremely rare--and sometimes apochryphal.

Anyway, the discussion started out with "what if" scenarios, and was generally about how the Seal of the Confessional works, how you keep it, whether you could get around it, how far extended, and so forth. It was an educating conversation, certainly, but my chief interest and reflective thought was about the remarkable privilege it is to be a priest, and to hear confessions.

Think of it! A priest is given the opportunity not only to observe people at their weakest, most broken, most unshielded--at their most trusting. Quite beyond simple observation, a priest is EXPLICITLY trusted with that. Sometimes the trust is routine, people go in with a "get in, get absolved, go home" mentality, but the very complacency of the routine should be awe-inspiring. A priest is ROUTINELY trusted with information that could shatter people's lives if used.

(Aside: of course, if a priest ever broke the Seal, good luck getting trusted like that again... but still...)

Going beyond the routine, every priest will have one or two or many times when it won't be the ordinary, but extraordinary, when he will be able to witness and help in a pivotal moment of change in someone's life, those confessions of the sort where someone hasn't been in twenty years or thirty years... or longer. And in these situations, where more often the trust must already be correspondingly greater to match the extent of the sins confessed, the penitent probably isn't someone the priest knows very well at all.

Protestants find the idea of Confession to be rather abhorrent. Why confess to a man when you can talk straight to God? Now, there's a whole theological discussion regarding that, and obviously I'm solidly in the Catholic camp, but even someone who has a completely different religious perspective has to admit that it must be utterly humbling and awe-inspiring to hear Confessions. It is an amazing, wildly crazy gift, the sort of gift that only someone as deeply in love as God is would ever give.

And He has--and I don't really just mean the chance to be a priest and hear Confessions, but also the opportunity, for anyone in the Church, to go TO Confession. And this, I know, is truly a divine gift. While it is certainly possible for God, in His infinite power, to forgive someone after they just confess their sins in the silence of their heart... but doesn't that seem like LESS of a gift than Confession? Indeed, I am convinced that it would be less of a gift. Forgiveness without the sacrament would never yield the same opportunities for improvement and the same graces for strengthening, or the same beautiful glimpse into the wild love of the Divine.

2007 in Review

It is thirty days since I last posted here. Normally, this past semester when I've finally logged in to put up another post, I've been amazed at how long it's been, sure that it can't be THAT long since I wrote something. Typically, such episodes happen about two weeks after the post previous. Not this time. This time, I can totally believe it. I simply haven't felt like writing anything of length online is so long. The Barrow-Downs cannot really be said to have felt my neglect, since I hardly write there other than in the oft-neglected "Tapestry of Dreams" RPG, but I haven't even been logging in. Now, a large part of this has to do with having been back in Olds for the majority of the month, where the internet has been shifty and slow at best this past month, and that following right on Finals... but the truth is that I just haven't felt that interested in writing anything online.

However, let's try and turn that around a little bit with a look at 2007. My 20th year came to an end on February 11th, with my birthday, and I ceased being a teenager. I now feel well and truly an adult and high school is becoming an ever more distant memory, a fact I do not regret in the slightest. For some people, high school are "the best years of their lives", but if that were the case, then I would be shuddering in terror at my future.

Mind you, 2007 was no bed of roses. Although it was an excellent year academically, which saw me achieve high grades and immense fun, the four months between school years was marred beyond much recovery by the broken leg.

All the same, though the broken leg was utterly undesirable, the fact is those four months were probably the most notable ones of 2007. Not because they were exciting. As far as interesting goes, they were rather lacking. No, it was the routine elements of the summer that were the most important for the future course of my life, I suspect. The broken leg, first of all, gave me a good, long look at my vocation and forced me to slow down. It also forced me to deal with being dependent on people and incapacitated, and it gave me a much greater empathy for those who are ill or injured.

Furthermore, as a result of breaking my leg, I ended up working in the Archdiocesan Archives, which is pretty much my dream job and on which I learned tonnes about the history of the Archdiocese, and Western Canadian history in general. I also moved into the rectory at Annunciation Parish, which was an excellent experience and would not have happened otherwise.

The few excursions out of daily routine during those summer months were weekends, and they saw me at various landmark occasions in people's lives: ordination, marriage, graduation. Attending them highlighted the changes in my own life: Andrew's ordination was the first I attended of a fellow seminarian, a tangible sign of my own solid placement as a seminarian. My brother Daniel's grad brought home in a gut-punching kind of way that fact I really and truly have moved on from school; now my siblings are starting to graduate, and with two of us gone and the rest poised to go off like dominoes, my family has definitely slid into a different demographic. The weddings also highlighted the same. Andrea and Aaron's wedding was the first one of friends in more-or-less my peer group. Give it another year or two and I will start attending weddings of people my age from school (be it high school or college). My cousin's wedding was a foreshadowing of sibling weddings to come.

I returned to seminary in the fall older and, I hope, wiser. It has been a completely different year from my first, despite having ended up in the same room and being on the same place in the social pecking order (ie. the bottom). Half the seminary is composed of seminarians new to Edmonton, and this combined with a confidence in my knowledge of how the place works has led to a much different sense of how I fit into the community, which has changed its face dramatically from last year.

At Concordia, the changes are vastly greater. Whereas last year I was something of a loner, academically keen but socially shy, this year has seen me with scarcely a moment when I have no one to hang out with. Mostly, this shift has developed parallel to my near-accidental involvement in the Philosophy Club, but there is also a conscious change of mind behind it. Part of it stems from the groundwork laid in the winter semester, before I broke my leg, when a year of classes with people drew to a close and I began simply through dint of time to get to know people, but most it is attitude. Possibly it comes from the aloneness of the broken leg, possibly from the exuberance of being back in school after a dreary summer, possibly I just grew up, but I have been a different person. Not seriously different, perhaps. Maybe not different at all to the outside viewer... but on the inside I feel dramatically different.

And now 2008 dawns.

I have modest expectations for this year. I will finish my 2nd year of college with a six-course semester, then do a spring course which will make up for my under-coursed first semester. I hope to be working in the Archives again and to live in a rectory in Edmonton. I have my name down for going to Quebec City in June for the International Eucharistic Congress, and while I expect that to be excellent, I'm not really looking towards it at the moment. In the fall I'll be back for my last year of my undergraduate degree.

Beyond those external developments, there are of course personal objectives I'd like to fulfill, but none are of a weighty nature. Mostly, it's not about major change, but about staying the course and gradual improvement. I lost weight over the summer when I was on crutches, and although I kept it off until Christmas, I'd like to not only keep it off in the coming year, but possibly get into a more active life. I'd like to start developing a personal prayer life outside of the Liturgy of the Hours, though with an eye to staying the course, it might be best to pray that I keep on track with saying that, for the moment.

At school I expect to continue to do well academically--that goes without saying, but with regards to extracurricular life, staying the course is a bit more of a challenge. Being back in Olds, old friendships have been a lot on my mind of late, and I find myself distressingly apathetic about people I knew before I left for seminary, and even somewhat similarly about online friends. This concerns me, not so much because I dislike being out of touch, but because friendship--close friendship--is not something I've ever achieved easily or often, and I fret over whether a similar apathy will affect the friendships I'm making in Edmonton, a concern which simultaneously makes me wonder if its worth the effort and terrified at losing people dear to me.

Finally, today at Mass I decided I want to get to know Mary better this year. The Virgin Mother of God figures large into the culture of the Church and the lives of the Saints are littered with stories of devotion to her. As a future priest, but also as an individual, I want a greater share in that.

Musician Spirituality?

Tonight I had something of an epiphany as I went to fill up my poor frozen car with gas--and no, it had nothing to do with the fact that I was getting gasoline. It had a great deal more to do with the accidental fact that my radio was playing. Playing music, that is. And as I half-consciously pondered the emotions that the music was raising (I'm not even sure what they were... it was some country song I've heard a hundred times, probably), it occurred to me that I tend to think about them a bit more seriously and spiritually than I do most other things. It's a well known fact that music, as memory, lasts longer and thus would seem to strike deeper chords than most other memories.

The epiphany that this sparked was related to a brief discussion that occurred yesterday at Boston Pizza in the midst of many much zanier conversations. Travis and Aaron were talking about Ignatian Spirituality, a subject I'm pretty ignorant on, although a seminarian's ignorance is often a layperson's expertise, where Church matters are concerned. Anyway, in touching on Ignatian Spirituality, Travis summed it up as being when you put read a gospel/Biblical text and put yourself into the position of the people in the text. The conversation moved on, and I thought nothing more about it, for while a number of seminarians really like Ignatian Spirituality and find it very appropriate for their personalities, insofar as I am acquainted with it, that's not been the case.

Going off the simple definition above, perhaps the reason that Ignatian Spirituality doesn't work so well for me is the fact that I have too much of a historical bent, meaning that while I'm capable of putting myself into other people's shoes, I tend to focus too much on getting it right than on letting the spirit of the moment say something too me. To put it another way, I'm too knowledgeable of the cultural/linguistic differences between myself and those of a Mediterranean culture 2000+ years ago to let myself get into it fully. Now, while it could very well be that I've simply not been fully and properly exposed to Ignatian Spirituality, as far as I currently know it, it isn't a personally successful schema thus far.

For whatever reason, however, when I was thinking about music and its effect this evening in the car, my subconscious dredged up yesterday's brief definition of Ignatian Spirituality, and something clicked. I realised that if one changed the context from putting oneself in the place of Biblical characters in a given story to putting oneself into the context of a particular song, then the basic pattern worked extremely well for me.

Well, to clarify somewhat, I don't generally imagine that I am that person either singing or being sung of, but I meditate rather on the emotions in me that the song raises. In many cases, particularly those of religious or liturgical nature, the emotions raised tend to be directly associated with the priesthood, and tend to tie in directly with my feelings about my vocation. Indeed, if I had to express exactly what thinking I'm called to the priesthood feels like, I'd be clumsy trying to get it out in words, but I could name easily a dozen songs that are exactly it, not necessarily in their lyrics as in their tunes and the emotions they evoke (naturally, the musical pieces that lack lyrics will of necessity be that way).

Now, some people are music snobs, and will be unable to fathom that after hymns and classical music my chief musical listening pleasure is country--and not classic country, but modern country, and all the "pop" feel that it is purported to have. Not being an expert in pop, I cannot attest to that; all that I can attest to is the fact that I enjoy listening to it. It tends to be drastically more bittersweet that listening to something like an "Ave Maria", and the lyrics often play a more important role. The bittersweet element comes in, probably, because of the secular element of the music, and I don't mean secular in a derogatory sense, but in the sense that it is pretty much directly opposed to the priestly life in terms of what it promotes. The vast majority of country music either promotes happy, romantic life, or else bemoans the lack of it. And this is well and good. The marriage vocation is the human default in many respects, and "it is not good for Man to be alone".

All the same, it cannot be said that such a vision is any way compatible with the life I am choosing by being in seminary, and since such a vision (even if presented through an oft-distorted lens) is presenting something that is inherently good, it is a bittersweet moment to ponder on it when a seminarian, and I think it is valuable to go through that, since it's a constant testing and reminder of the truth of what the life of a priest is.

Otherwise, there is pretty much no music that I listen to on a regular basis, so I cannot speak as to the emotions that, as a broad genre, they tend to bring up, except to say that this may explain why I dislike the more "noisy" and discordant ones. In any case, there are within my preferred genres enough divergent individual pieces to feed just about any meditative mood.

It's possible too that this may shed some light on why I find meditation to be something of a struggle. As a general rule, I can't meditate on a text. I can read a text, and I do my best to ponder on it, reread it, and speculate... but I never feel like I'm getting any further than the surface. And I'm utterly incapable of meditating on an image, or just sitting there: my mind wanders far too easily. Music has the dual advantage, it would seem, of distracting me from all those thoughts that fill my mind and seek to get out and preoccupy me, while simultaneously giving me something to concentrate and meditate on.

The more I think about this, the more I am intrigued by it. Now I have to see if I can get music in chapel during Adoration. (Hmm... that reminds me that I REALLY found Taizé worship to fit my meditative style.) Fat chance of that, and for good reason: while my personal style is most conducive to music, this is not universally so. Perhaps the Spirit is trying to broaden my spiritual horizons with other forms of meditation, but it's a painful process if so.

Who am I?

(Can you tell my papers are all done and I've got an academic lull coming? I'm posting here two days in a row!)

I had the most bizarre experience this evening. I'd just come back from supper, and I was rather pumped from post-Vespers, post-Mass, end of the week euphoria, and I popped into the washroom momentarily for the obvious reason. Without dwelling on that, as I was washing my hands and ready to dash off to my next big adventure (visiting Classic-Castle), I happened to notice that a bit of my hair was out of place, and looking at myself in the mirror, I had the thought "huh. I forgot about him."

Him?

I "forgot" about me.

Or, rather, I forgot about what I had looked like all day. Now, if I may say so, I was looking rather sharp today in matching sweater, tie, dress pants and shirt (a brown/black-blue combination in various shades)--not that looking sharp had anything to do with my remembering or forgetting. It was simply that it struck me rather forcefully how little I have a visual perception of myself.

Combined with my really confused perception of time (too much Kant, existentialism, and late-semester time dilation going on), it's made for some rather odd, inexpressible, thoughts of late.

On the Eve of Advent

Whoa! Has it been a while since I've checked in here! Too much going on, I guess. Though, that being said, I don't really feel like very much has happened that's worth touching on since I last posted. I mean, all that's really happened is that I hit a curb in my car and had to pay more money than I'd've like to fix it, but that over and done, and really doesn't prompt anything other than a comment on the fact that it's now really and truly winter in Edmonton. I mean, we've had snow before this fall, but as of Sunday (when I hit the curb) it seems to have come to stay, coupled with a nastily cold snap in the weather. Although the first shock of cold always leaves me in dread and I loathe having to drive on snow at first (justified, given this week's experience), I really don't mind it now that it's shown up. Unless my car doesn't start or I REALLY freeze walking from my car to the building, it's beautiful and makes you feel alive.

So, that's what has passed... what's coming up?

Well, lo and behold, classes end in less than a week. Tuesday is my last day of class, and I'm done my Finals December 12th. I can't say how eager I am to be done the semester, and to be free! A week ago I was really, really looking forward to heading home as soon as my last Final was over... but now I'm not so sure. I'm tempted to stay in Edmonton until Saturday, giving me a few extra days before leaving for Olds; and it's not that I don't still love the feeling of being home around Christmas... it's just the realisation that come December 28th or so I'm going to be nuts to get out of the house and back into the Seminary, at least if last year's any indication. That's a LONG time to be back home, and my social life would not suggest that I have a heck of a lot to do in Olds other than family. I transplanted almost 100% completely from Olds to Edmonton, and there's little enough reason to go back now, other than family.

Ah well, whichever I choose to do, I can't wait until December 12th, and that becomes the chief of my worries. Right now, I still have more important stuff to consider.

Updated

Wow... it's more than two weeks since I last posted, and not due to any lack of action in my life, either in the events part of things, or along the mental front. It's a mark of how busy life's been, I guess. Midterms, Term Papers, Seminary Stuff, Philosophy Club... there's a lot going on right now.

Indeed, the only reason that I making myself post tonight is that I've just come home from Olds with my family's old computer, which (though seven/eight years old still beats the one I had) I've been reorganising to suit my idiosyncracies--which of course involves getting my Bookmarks set up in Firefox. Hence, I'm here, and feeling guilty. But the more of this non-school stuff I clear up today, the more time I can (theoretically) devote to working on homework tomorrow. (Due to "Reading Break", I have an extra day off tacked onto the end of the long weekend.)

As already noted, there's a lot I could write about, but little comes to mind. Everything is a blur right now... I can't believe it's already mid-November, and I'm utterly frightened about how little time I have left before I have to hand in my term papers. Next thing you know we'll have snow (it's been REALLY late this year), then Finals, then Christmas, then the New Year... and then all over again.

Time fascinates me, really... and amazes me. In clearing out the deadwood on the computer I was browsing through old files before I clearcut the folders that aren't mind, and there were copious reminders of how fast time has flown. I still remember when the computer was not a part of my family's life at all, but that's seven years ago now, just for the computer I've inherited, and a couple years more for the first computers we had.

Wow... just... wow...

Sing a new song unto the Lord...

Well, I wrote already last month about music and the huge role that it plays in my life. If it's possible though, since then I think I've come to be even more inundated with music.

You know how you can have a song stuck in your head for days on end? Right now I've got a whole list of tunes I can play mentally. I can select from Carmen, from Andrea Bocelli, from three or so psalm settings, as well as various Mass parts and hymns. I'm humming or singing under my breath constantly the last couple weeks.

I wake up in the morning, and about the first fifteen minutes of tangible consciousness is Lauds, which has the Invitatory, which is sung, an opening hymn, and the Benedictus, which is also sung.

Mass figures into every day save Wednesday, when it occurs while I'm at Concordia. Mass at the seminary includes at least three hymns and four or five Mass parts, if not more of both, and occasionally sung prayers.

About three days a week I make it to chapel at Concordia. There are always at least two musical pieces, if not more.

Going to and from Concordia, the CD player is usually on. This is where Andrea Bocelli or something else, typically classical, would occur, since Pablo oftens makes use of the CD player to indulge our shared musical tastes.

I say the Office of Readings and Daytime Prayer on my own, and I never feel completely satisfied if I omit the hymn at the beginning. Today I was so enamored of the psalm setting we did at Compline last night that I set all the psalms to it.

Every evening we say Vespers together. This has, again, an opening hymn, as well as the Magnificat, which we sing. Tonight we get the full musical version, "Cathedral Vespers". And right before bedtime we have Compline, which has at least an opening hymn sung.

The communal life of the Church is full of music. Though the liturgy does not require it, it is a rare liturgy that lacks it, and it is a poorer liturgy, in my opinion. If words are the expression of our thoughts, then I think that music is the expression of our emotions.

And yet, for all that I am musically addicted and revolving... I absolutely hate iPods. Well, it's not that I think they are intrinsically bad. An iPod is like almost any tool: in and of itself there is nothing bad about it, and used well it can be a great boon to have.

However, I do not think most people use it well. It has become an antisocial agent, encouraging people not to communicate, but to withdraw from the world. It encourages obliviousness to the needs and presence of the community around us, and is really used in a profoundly selfish way. Equally bad, I don't think I've ever seen any evidence that iPods do anything to encourage people to sing or make music of their own. It certainly stifles the sharing of music, since they are scarce to be seen without the presence of earbuds. Music is like speech--it is meant to be audible, it is inherently communal. Music cordoned off into just one person's isolated ears is next to an abomination.

Anyway, that's my rant about it...

It's really funny, though, how this insane urge to hum and sing has been constantly recurring this weekend, which is supposed to be a silent retreat. Actually, I don't think I've had a less silent retreat yet... besides the musical instinct, I've had music practice which also entails all sorts of unnecessary conversation, and I'm engaged right now in outside communication, besides which I tend to read aloud... and read I have. That being said, this has been one of the most productive recollections I've experienced spiritually.

In a way, that's a microcosm of the seminary year thus far: less strictly adherent to the rules, but a lot more spiritually fruitful.

I lift my eyes up to the mountains, from where shall come my help?

Over the weekend, I had the privilege/task of chauffeuring Archbishop Smith to Hinton for a parish visit. His Grace is attempting to make such visits to all the parishes in the Archdiocese, above and beyond regular visits such as for Confirmation, and Hinton was on the agenda for last weekend. Since I had no overly large burden of homework, I said yes to Fr. Stephen when I was asked to take on the task of driving the Archbishop and acting as his MC at the Masses.

Now, before I go into the peculiar thoughts that occurred to me during the weekend, let me state that it was a good trip. Hinton is about three hours west of Edmonton, and is just on the edge of the Rocky Mountains, outside Jasper National Park. The Yellowhead Highway runs direct from Edmonton, and we had excellent driving weather, and the highway was quiet. Once in Hinton, we had an excellent reception by the parish. The Masses were good, the socials were good, the people were friendly, and my hosts were charming (due to there only being one spare bedroom in the rectory, the Archbishop stayed there with Fr. Brian while I stayed with a couple parishioners).

Indeed, it was really nice to get away from Edmonton. I think I passed through Hinton when I was five, on our way to B.C., but I have no memory of the event, nor indeed do I ever remember driving the Yellowhead west of Edmonton. It's a gorgeous drive, being mostly in forest and the foothills once you get past the suburbs, and for the last half hour before Hinton the Rockies loom enormous in front of you. I loved the trip, as it took me somewhere I'd never been, somewhere beautiful, and it got me out of the city. It had all the hallmarks of a vacation, except for the company.

And therein lay the most mind-bending part of the trip. Despite having the right conditions for feeling like a really awesome roadtrip or vacation, it was a business trip, and it was just the Archbishop and me. Now His Grace is a really nice and gracious man, and I enjoyed his company, but I really don't know him particularly well (which is a part of the reason he gets seminarians to drive him around), and he is twenty-five years my senior--and my boss.

I don't know... it just felt a little odd, and the fact that I neither had family nor friends along gave me quite a bit of cause for thought as we drove out. Simultaneous with being awestruck by the enjoyment of the adventure, I was quite melancholic with the realisation that that very lack of loved ones was probably going to be a major factor in my future travels.

Thinking on roadtrips, it occurred to me that I'll probably never go on a roadtrip with anyone other than seminarians (or once we're ordained, priests). The constraints of seminary life are such that I'll never have the flexibility to up and go somewhere with other friends from school, and the constraints of being a seminarian are such that while I have many people I call friends at school, precious few of them do or will likely ever see me outside of it, especially within the parameters of just having fun.

Once I'm ordained, I do get four weeks of vacation a year, and most priests I know do like to spend them going on trips--to Europe, to the States, to tropical locales--but they generally all go with their brother priests. While the option is there for me to spend my holidays with non-sacerdotal friends, it is unlikely that I'll have very many close enough that I would invite them or they would invite me, and the older I get, the less likely it is that I'll develop more such friends, while it's certainly likely that I'll lose them.

As for family, while I certainly intend to be as much a member there as possible, the fact is that while holidays such as Thanksgiving may see me at home, they are far more likely to see me in small doses, like visits for the weekend than for anything exciting like traveling. Maybe my parents--except that neither of them are really travelers.

On top of all this travel companion business--about which I'm not sure whether I like it or am neutral to it entirely--there's a more sobering thought about travel which really does strike me. Odds are, most of the traveling I do, especially the grand international stuff will be as much business as pleasure. It concerns me that what should be the awesome events of a lifetime will become the rote duties to be escaped in holidays.

I don't know where I'm going, exactly. I'm feeling quite melancholic about all these thoughts, but I don't see them as bad, or even necessarily as inevitable, but simply as probable. It is, really, just another hallmark of the fact that a priest is not his own man, but is someone set apart, sealed off for the service of God and the Church.

Dreaming

I had an interesting dream last night--interesting if only because I remembered it, but interesting for quite a bit more than that, really.

I started by dreaming that I was going in to school--presumably today. Not that Concordia ended up looking anything like it does. One small corner resembled the basement in my parish church, before they renovated, but even there the resemblance was localised and fleeting. I ran into a few people from school: Phil, Sierra, Nolan; before I headed off doing something else, and Concordia shifted from being school.

I was then driving back to the same place, but it was (as I said) no longer Concordia, but apparently some sort of major event... maybe a convention or tournament. The building was still the same, except that now it was a giant parking facility, with many floors, and I was carefully trying to find a parking spot. I ended up parking way off in the annex, and then walking through the rain to whatever was going on.

For whatever reason, I lad to get something from my car after that, and since it was now sunny outside, I took the long way around with a couple of girls in ethnic garb that looked Polish. We had a discussion on the way about how our made-up world (and we knew we were both in it and that it was fictional) had a made-up Poland and Czechoslovakia and other eastern European countries, but no western ones, like France or Germany. This was occurring as we walked through a park/campgroundlike area that was surrounded by mountains. It was high summer and GORGEOUS.

Well, we hadn't made it to the car when things shifted again. I made a detour through a gazebo-looking building in the middle of the park that was actually a bar full of guntoting gansters, and emerged to discover that I was actually at a Bones Tournament, and that my team was playing as soon as I returned from the car with whatever item I was after.

I finally reached my car, which was parked in what was essentially an underground drive-in movie theatre. I say that because it was a parking lot, in a cave, with a screen playing movies on it. Somehow, I got distracted and started watching the movie, and I was reminded of my history. Apparently I'd lost my girlfriend recently after an argument, and I was quite melancholic.

Amusing as that was, I was soon jolted back to reality when I realised I was fifteen minutes late for my first game (which, interestingly, took place at 11:10, the time of my first class in real life), and since there was no way I could walk the enormous distance back in time to play, I decided to sit around near the car-cave and leave later in time for my second set (again, timed to match my class schedule). I went over to a falling-down log cabin near a clear-cut forest littered with fallen wood, where I had a run-in with my former girlfriend and some guy. I'm not sure if he was supposed to be my brother, her brother, or some random friend, but in real life he's another seminarian's brother, and I've met him about once. In the dream he had the function of trying to get us to hook up again.

Feeling melancholy, I went back to the car-cave theatre, where for whatever reason, the direction the movie screen was facing had flipped around, and saw my former girlfriend standing there watching what I thinking was a sappy movie, looking quite sad. At this point I came up behind her, hugged her, and we apparently made up.

At this point, we both realised we were late for our games, and we decided to forget it all, since we didn't really care about the tournament, and it was too late to do anything about it. We got in my car, but I don't think we were driving anywhere.

The perspective now shifted slightly, as two previously-unseen secondary characters (resembling Timon and Pumbaa in camaraderie) started talking, and I was looking at them cut-and-paste a picture together. I have no idea what that was about, but this is when it clued in to me that I was a seminarian, and having a girlfriend was NOT going to work with that... but I couldn't just dump her, having just got back together, especially since I really, really loved her.

Well, that was when Arvo Pärt's Berlinger Messe started tolling out of my alarm clock, waking me up. And let me tell you, I have never been so relieved as finding that I didn't actually have a girlfriend I needed either to dump or dump the seminary for.

I must say that it really had me thinking for most of meditation what, if anything, this dream means. I certainly don't take it as a sign of God's intentions, but it stems from my subconscious... and where did my subconscious get that from? Why is this figuring into my dream landscape?

Also really odd is the fact that my "girlfriend" is actually a classmate at school, but not someone I can really claim to know. Well enough to know her name, and say hello in the halls, but that's about it. It'll be odd if I run into her at Concordia this afternoon.

With Great Power comes Great Responsibility

So, it had been my hope never again to be involved in a major online dispute. The Davem episode gave me more than enough to satisfy that longing, and I've tangled as a moderator before on Classic-Castle with dealing with upset members. It seemed reasonable to me that, given I'm unlikely to ever have time for internet forums like I once did, and given my interest in those already around is fading, that I would have no real opportunity for it, since one does not have moderation/discussion issues when communicating with friends.

Then along came Facebook and the Philosophy Club's Group and forums.

I can't deny that discussion was getting way off of Philosophical topics, nor that the manner the discussions were being done were failing to conform to any normal concept of "reasoning", which is what Philosophy is supposed to be about... however...

Marking posts as irrelevant, deleting posts, and deleting whole topics is NOT a successful way of dealing with it; not if you actually want to have a lively forum. Already, since the binge-deleting started, fresh posts have dropped off, as everyone with any sense has stepped back and abandoned posting, thinking there's no point.

Half the issue here... or more than half... is that I'm the only Admin who has experience moderating an online forum, and I get the feeling that power has gone right to some people's heads. I agree with what they're trying to accomplish! God knows I have nothing but loathing and derision in my heart of hearts for those who claim to be philosophising when really, all they are doing is rambling on with emotions and ad hominem arguments. But still! If you don't want the forum to die, you have to respond with TACT.

Authority without tact is only going to antagonise people and drive them away. Far from reforming the forums, it will kill them. Which is worse: a dead forum or one that no longer has anything on topic? Frankly, I think it's a lose-lose situation.

So here I am, again stuck in the middle of an internet furor. The worst of it is that I really, really don't feel qualified to play peacemaker. I had a stupid incident in class on Wednesday where I acted like an arrogant know-it-all, and in reflection I feel like an utterly insensitive pedant, and not at all qualified to act as the conscience of an irritated group of powerful and smart admins.

God help us all!

Internet Philosophy

Well, it feels like ages since I last posted here, but "ages" is really just "eight days", during which the internet was down at the seminary for about five, which made it feel like ages.

The internet being down wasn't the worst of it. For whatever reason, the internet being down had an unforeseen consequence for my computer, insofar as it seemed to go from being junk to being worse junk. I was THIS close to going out and buying a laptop on the spur of the moment, and was saved only because Friday night and Saturday was a silent Recollection, and I didn't feel justified in disappearing during it, and the fact that I don't really have the bank funds to justify it. Still, if the return of the internet on Monday hadn't somehow magically rectified whatever the problem was, I would probably have a new computer by now.

Other than the woes of the internet, life has been good. The Peripatetics, Concordia's brand new (and first) Philosophy Club, of which I am Recording Officer, had its first general meeting on Monday night, and it rocked. We had a twenty-two person turnout, more than expected, and the room was full. We had lively, balanced, engaged discussion (on why prostitution is immoral, to which only one person really disagreed about the basic assumption that it IS immoral--we just didn't all agree why), and wrapped up with lots of energy and excitement for the next installment, on Monday the 15th.

It looks like this is going to be an awesome year, at least as far as Concordia and Philosophy Club is concerned. If the meeting is any indication, Monday nights are going to be a blast, and we have special events cooking that are awesome. And then there's the Facebook group, which is halfway to wacko, but is also halfway to beating the Barrow-Downs as my most engaged-in forum.

Seminary life is also good, but in less obviously spectacular ways. I really can't define why or how except to say that I love living here, and I'm really glad to be back.

Hmm... I had all kinds of ideas while the internet was down for my usual introspective musings, but they aren't coming to me, and may be best left for another post anyway.

Ordination

Last night the seminary community commuted en masse to St. Thomas More parish for the ordination to the diaconate of one of our own. Victor Botari of the Archdiocese of Edmonton was ordained a transitional deacon in expectation of his ordination to the priesthood in about a year's time. It was my seventh ordination attended, my second diaconal one, and the first ordination in Edmonton since receiving our new Archbishop.

It was a beautiful service, and as ordinations tend to do for me, I came away hungrier than usual for my own ordinations. The music was excellent, the atmosphere serene, and the food afterwards delicious.

For some reason, six years looks incredibly longer than usual at the moment, that being how long about until my diaconal ordination. Really, it's kind of silly, given that I have my whole life to serve as an ordained minister--why should I feel the need to rush it? But I do want to rush it. Badly.

Music

I love being able to sing. The past few weeks I've experienced daily the agony of not being able to and the joy of doing so. Morning Prayer (& Mass) around 7:30 has been horrible for me. I've had phlegm in my throat, I've found higher notes impossible to hit, and I don't have any volume. It's almost a spiritual desolation not being able to sing.

But then Evening Prayer (& Mass) comes along, as today, and my voice hits all the notes, and the joy of singing is inexpressible.

Music plays a pretty large role in my life, I've noticed, and not just because I get it daily in the Liturgy of the Hours and Mass. Putting on a CD or the radio in my room or car when I'm alone is natural going on the Internet, and I have a growing tendency to hum or sing (at varying volumes) when I'm walking alone, either in the hallways here or to and fro at Concordia. Most of these hummed/sung tunes tend to be religious in nature, typically something from Mass or prayer that morning, and they connect me in an interesting way to my faith throughout the day, as well as generally leaving me in a cheerier mood.

I've also noticed that my vocational mood will shift depending on the type of song in my head, though whether as a result or a cause thereof I do not know. Classic pieces, Latin chants, and hymns--not surprisingly--tend to boost my priestly yearnings, while more secular songs (often, but not always, Country) tend to put me into a more wistful, "what if" sort of a mood. It's interesting to note, though, that though there's a wistfulness, it's sort of a half-hearted wistfulness, as if it would hurt much more if I actually wanted some other vocation.

Today the song in my head has been "Panis Angelicus", the more or less most famous version. Pablo had Andrea Bocelli's version playing on the way to Concordia, and it's now pretty much stuck. I'm trying to coerce it out by playing other songs, but I'm having little success.

The Logical Conclusion

I've decided that, for my own good, it would probably be better if I wasn't taking Philosophy.

Kidding. A bit.

The fact is that I have already seen how dangerous it is to wield reason, for one's own sake. Truly, logic is a two-edged sword.

Yesterday, it cut backwards.

I was having a not-particularly-serious discussion about going to chapel. The whole campus on Concordia shuts down for half an hour each morning for chapel--which most students don't attend, myself included. My reasoning for going was never really thought out, but basically it came down to a dislike of style of worship. Call me a Catholic elitist, call me picky, or call me whatever... I wasn't going.

Anyway, I was sort of teasing a friend about going to "feel-good chapel", and she (wisely) was ignoring my arguments and telling me I was being too stubborn (which I was). During a lull in the conversation, however, I had a rather painful epiphany.

My reason for criticising, even in jest, those going to chapel is that they went simply because they wanted to. Well, that was a pretty hypocritical attitude to take, I now realised, since I was not going for basically the same reason: I wasn't feeling good about it.

The logical conclusion then, was that I could no longer criticise those going to chapel. Or, if I were to criticise them for going simply because it felt good, I would be morally obliged to go myself, DESPITE not really enjoying it, if I intended to retain the premise that feelings are a poor basis for worship.

I was also quite unable to come up with a difference reason for avoiding chapel. The fact that it's at a Lutheran college gets me nowhere, since it's a nondenominational worship in pretty much every sense, and quite apart from excusing myself from attending on the grounds of being a Catholic seminarian, I am in fact obliged to attend as a practical sign of ecumenism and Christian unity.

The end result? Barring a startling philosophic revelation, I will likely be in chapel tomorrow (today I'm not at Concordia until 12:30, so I'm excused on the grounds of simply not being at school).

I'm sure this is good for my soul. The having to die to self part makes that evidently clear.

Friday Afternoon Blues

It's been all of a week since I last wrote here, and I feel almost... guilty. I mean, a week is REALLY a long time to leave it... okay. Not really.

Actually, it means I'm about right on par for where I was last year in terms of normal posting, which also means that the summer is definitely over. And, after my first full week of classes, I cannot but agree with that. It's been a full week, a busy week, and overall a good week. I really do like being back in school. I missed the place, and the people more importantly, quite a lot.

Which may, or may not, explain the odd feeling I've got right now, fresh back from my last day of the week. On the on hand, I feel awesome: I had an awesome day in class, the weather is good, I had hilarious fun after class, we're going to the football game tonight, and I don't have to get up early for two days. All of that is great, and I feel great about all of that.

And yet... and yet... it's like there's something missing, a feeling that today somehow failed to live up to its promise, that in coming home I've admitted defeat and I'm doomed to a weekend of misery. And while, yes, I do have a full slate of homework, I'm looking forward to getting at it, believe it or not, and I'm going out to visit my aunt and uncle on Sunday, and I'm excited about that.

What then, has me with this wistful feeling that today could have been better?

I don't know... but I'd point the guess in the direction of the fact that I really do enjoy being at Concordia.

Friday Night Live

So... it's a Friday night, most people my age are on the town, and while I am not in bed yet (and I should be), I'm still alive and kicking.

It's been a great first week back to school, in some respects. I've really missed Concordia, and the people there, and even to an extent the hectic pace of homework and commutes. At the risk of sounding very elementary school-ish, I've already "made three new friends", in a manner of speaking, which for me is downright astounding. I am not, generally, an instant friend-maker. I spent the majority of time last year not only without making many friends, but also without having many to begin with. Much of it was a pretty lonely year.

I guess you could say then that I've definitely grown in the past 12 months, since last September. I know this is true in other ways. Just in general, I've become a lot more confidant and even (dare I make the claim?) leaderly. Just up and speaking in front of the seminary community with a bit of a voice of direction is not something I did at all last year, and I certainly didn't walk into strange new situations without anxiety. Maybe it's just that I feel like I'm really at home, coming back this year, but I really do feel a lot more confidant, both here and at Concordia.

I have to say, I'm going to miss Concordia... though I wouldn't want to delay my ordination by staying longer. I just hope I manage to keep in contact with friends made there. Facebook, while good for knowing some things, really doesn't do that job, though it can lay the foundations.

A Tale of Two Days

My first two days of being back "in school" have now officially been survived. The first day of being back in the school, Orientation Day, was yesterday. The first day being being back at schooling was today.

The two days could scarcely have been more different, I suspect.

Yesterday, I headed to Concordia as early as I could, after a whirlwind tour of the seminary, as I prepared for all sorts of things, in order to try and reach the college early enough to help as a volunteer. Somehow, I'm not entirely sure how, I got roped into volunteering with the Orientation, an event I was somewhat dreading between being somewhat shy and somewhat concerned about my leg.

I needn't have worried: it was a blast! It was so great to be back in school, and it was awesome seeing people I hadn't seen in months, and of reconnecting--even with people I'm not sure I ever connected with the first year around. It was also totally awesome to see how far one comes in a year, looking at all the freshmen with bemused detachment, as these first-timer college students follow you around in very serious, docile timidity.

Yesterday was also the Orientation Day here at Newman, and I got back in time for the supper barbecue, and that too was great as I got to reconnect with a number of the people that, while I might not have studied with them, I was around enough (since I live here) to be well remembered. It was an excellent supper, with great fellowship, and then it turned into an awesome evening as we had a campfire, and a number of the seminarians sat around drinking Uzo and smoking Cuban cigars (yes, I had a Cuban cigar).

Then it was time for Compline, Night Prayer, and that went beautifully as well, I thought. I exited brimming with excitement, and fell in with the crew of post-firepit seminarians heading off to Boston Pizza for "supper". More fellowship and fun.

After all the awesome excitement of the Orientations Day, today was drudgery. True, it was an adventure bouncing all over campus trying to find classes, help with policing the Opening Convocation, and trying to get books out of the bookstore in one piece--but it marked a return to the true sweat and tears of the college routine. Although I know this semester won't overly tax me, it was very overwhelming to run the gamot of all the assignments and expectations of the year to come. It was also a thoroughly exhausting day as I had three classes back-to-back to attend, then another class later, meaning that I have four of my five classes (the normal maximum) that need to be attended on Mondays and Fridays.

Still, I have to admit that I'm liking what the semester looks like. I'm really pleased with my choices in courses. The courses that I started today are as follows:

Early Renaissance English: including St. Thomas More's Utopia, and Shakespeare's Twelvth Night, among others.

Ancient Near Easter Religions: The mythology, history, and culture of the Sumerian, Babylonian, Canaanite, Hittite, Assyrian, and Egyptian cultures. (And it counts as my religion credit! Woot!)

History of Western Philosophy: Modern: Focussing on Descartes, Berkeley, and Kant, primarily.

Ethics: Another Philosophy course, focussing on Aristotle's ethics, Kant again, and John Mills' Utilitarianism. The setup for this course in particular looks to be a lot of fun.

The last class, which I don't start until tomorrow, is another Philosophy course: Analysis of Contemporary Issues. It's the only junior level course I'm taking this semester, and according to a guy who took it last year, it's really good. It has the same prof as my other two Philosophies of the semester, and I'm really liking his style so far.

Still, excited as I am, it's been a long day putting the nose back to the grindstone. I keep wondering when it'll start feeling normal, and I'll start settling in again--then I remember what Fr. Shayne said last year, about things never following the schedule BEING the seminary's schedule.

But yay! I'm home, and I'm in school, and--God willing--things will keep being awesome.

Meanwhile, I should maybe think about my homework.

Yeah....

Retreat into Renewal

I am now back from the opening retreat of the seminary year, and I am filled with all kinds of reflections on what an amazing experience it was. Our speaker, Bishop Richard Gagnon of Victoria, did an excellent job and somehow what he said has melded in my mind with the books I was reading this week: Jesus of Nazareth, by Pope Benedict, A House United?, by Keith Fournier, and The Gift of Faith, by Fr. Tadeusz Dajczer. Separate posts on each of the books may follow, depending on how my weekend goes, but for the moment, here are the main thoughts that came out of my weekend:

Jesus is the centre and focus of the Church. Seems like a bit of a "duh!" statement, but it's one of those things that needs to be revisited, to be remembered. It's pretty easy to get caught up in the serving of people, the self-improvement, the day-to-day stuff, and forget that the real foundation of Christianity goes beyond that, but is specifically Christ-centric.

Secondly, there's a new clarity regarding sin and God's love. Ironically, given that I've just called it a clarity, I'm not entirely sure how to put it... but basically it comes down to the fact that sin, first and foremost isn't about us--isn't about me, myself, and I, as it often tends to be viewed--but is about God and us, about our relationship with God.

Thirdly, and most importantly, I think, is the idea that holiness can be planned. For me, this is particularly important, given that I'm a planner. All too often, my spiritual life is haphazard in how it works, and it is an important step for me to realise that "okay, even if I probably haven't got the reliability to follow it totally, every day, I should at least PLAN for prayer and personal time with God, above and beyond the demands of seminary routine". Seminary routine is great, but it doesn't require MY self-discipline, just my obedience to the rules. If I am to be a good priest--nay, if I am to be a good Christian--I need to do MORE. I need to make my relationship with God a priority.

That, in a nutshell, is the fundamentals of my retreat. And now it's time to take off for an uncle's birthday.